by Anne Mather
‘Don’t look so eager,’ he exclaimed good-naturedly. ‘Marisa may be watching from her window.’
Joanne felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of having amused her and turned her face away to stare out of the open window.
They drove away from the villa, up the track towards the inner recesses of the island. It was a glorious day, the sky a clear blue, the sun burnishing the horizon to gold. The air was sweet with the scent of the pines mingling with a faint salty tang from the sea. Their path was overgrown in places with luxuriant undergrowth, while the hedges were brilliant with the colours of wild flowers. No one could remain indifferent to so much beauty and presently Joanne said: ‘Where are we going?’
Constantine glanced in her direction. ‘Am I forgiven, then?’
Joanne compressed her lips. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted.
‘All right, I’ll take it I am. We’re going to Dimitri’s place - where I live.’
Joanne’s eyes widened doubtfully. ‘But should we?’ she asked awkwardly.
Constantine snorted. ‘Don’t alarm yourself. We shan’t be entirely alone. Dimitri’s housekeeper, Rosa, will be around. She looks after me, and she’ll provide an adequate chaperon if that’s what you’re afraid of.’
Joanne sighed. ‘I’m not afraid,’ she said patiently. ‘But Mr. Kastro might not care for you taking me to his house.’
‘Marisa spends all her time there.’
‘Marisa is your fiancée.’
‘She’s also Matt’s daughter, and so are you.’
Joanne lifted her shoulders. ‘Oh, very well,’ she conceded, unwilling to argue on such a day.
They descended to the sea’s edge farther round the island between groves of olive and pine, and soon Joanne could see their destination. Dimitri Kastro’s house was vastly different from her father’s, built of wood, single-storied, with a verandah that circled the building. It had none of the neatness of Matthieu’s, and stood at the edge of a strand of white sand. Its sprawling bulk covered a wide area, and Joanne guessed the rooms were much bigger than those in her father’s house. Everything was on a much larger scale and when Constantine halted at the foot of the verandah steps and invited her into the building she went with no small amount of curiosity. She wanted to see what Dimitri’s home would be like, and she was not disappointed.
A mosaic-panelled hall led into a huge lounge which stretched from front to back of the house. There was a long stone-built fireplace, big enough to roast an ox, and piled with logs for the cooler evenings. Wide windows let sunlight into a room that was luxurious without being ostentatious. The floors were polished wood, as in her father’s house, with plenty of soft rugs into which one’s feet sank, but the furniture was not modern like her father’s. There were two couches, upholstered in dull red leather and strewn with green velvet cushions. Two armchairs faced each other across the wide hearth, deep and comfortable, with a slightly well-worn appearance. The curtains were heavy red velvet, tied back with green cords, while bookshelves that flanked the fireplace were stacked with a variety of literature including some text books. There was a feeling of space, a lack of unnecessary clutter, and Joanne thought the tall lamps positioned at various points about the room were the only illumination that was necessary. She could imagine the room on a cold night, with the logs blazing up the chimney, the velvet curtains drawn, and an intimate dinner served on a long low oak table that stood in the centre of the hearth and was presently supporting a bowl of the scarlet blossoms that Joanne had identified as hibiscus.
Constantine studied her mobile expression and raised his dark eyebrows. ‘I gather you like it,’ he commented dryly.
Joanne spread her hands helplessly. ‘Who wouldn’t? It’s delightful. There’s so much space!’
Constantine shrugged. ‘Well, Dimitri’s a big man. He wouldn’t fit into that doll-size villa of Matt’s, if that’s what you’re comparing it with. You should see his apartment in Athens. It’s enormous, too, and has a marvellous view of the Parthenon.’
Joanne half-smiled. ‘I would like to have explored Athens,’ she said softly. ‘I suppose you know it well.’
Constantine nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I know Athens. But come on ... we’re wasting time! It’s a marvellous day. Let’s go down to the beach and swim before it gets too hot.’
Joanne put a hand to her mouth. ‘But I haven’t got a swimsuit,’ she exclaimed disappointedly. ‘You rushed me away so quickly, I didn’t think ...’
Constantine shook his head. ‘No matter. Marisa has several. She leaves them lying around, waiting to be dried. Rosa will know where one is.’
‘Oh, but I—’ she began, but he was gone, and sighing she moved exploringly about the room, lifting an article here, a book there, wanting somehow to make contact with the man who had somehow disturbed the even tenor of her existence without even being aware of doing so.
Constantine returned with a scarlet bikini which he thrust into Joanne’s reluctant hand. ‘But - but I couldn’t wear this!’ she cried, her cheeks red. ‘I - I’ve never worn anything like this!’
‘There’s always a first time,’ replied Constantine disarmingly. ‘It’s quite decent, you know. Besides, you want to get brown, don’t you?’
Joanne hesitated, considered protesting, and then decided it was useless. Maybe she was the prude after all. She had seen girls wearing scantier garments. Constantine directed her to the bathroom and with lingering reluctance she stripped off her clothes. In the mirrors on the bathroom wall the bikini looked all right, but the prospect of confronting Constantine in it was unnerving.
However, it had to be done if she wanted to go swimming, and although he stared at her for an embarrassing moment he said nothing and she was relieved.
The sand was hot beneath their feet as they ran down into the creaming water, and once beneath its enveloping shroud Joanne lost all traces of embarrassment. Instead, she swam and played with Constantine energetically, enjoying the unexpected pleasure of a young man’s company. Afterwards, they stretched out on the sand to sunbathe, Joanne on her back, her dark glasses shading her eyes.
For a while Constantine lay still, and then he rolled on to his side and regarded her with an intensity that disturbed her. She liked him, he was a nice boy, but she had no intention of becoming emotionally involved with him even though she thought he might be more than willing.
Suddenly he reached out a hand and removed her dark glasses. ‘It’s a shame to hide your eyes,’ he said huskily. ‘They’re a gorgeous colour!’
Joanne snatched back her glasses, but she did not immediately put them on. Instead, she said: ‘Constantine!’ in a warning voice. ‘Remember, I’m not Marisa. And I don’t intend that she should have any reason to be jealous!’
Constantine touched her bare arm lying close to his. ‘You’re much more exciting than Marisa,’ he murmured. ‘A violet-eyed, silver-haired goddess, who’s come down from Olympus to enchant me!’
Joanne was flabbergasted. From anyone else his words would have sounded hackneyed and artificial, but from Constantine they didn’t sound artificial at all.
Joanne sat up rather impatiently, sliding her glasses back on to her nose. ‘Please,’ she was beginning with some annoyance, when a shadow fell across them on the sand. Joanne looked up in astonishment, and then her heart seemed to slow down painfully before beginning to pound with erratic haste.
‘Very pretty,’ remarked Dimitri Kastro, his voice as chilling as an east wind. He gave his brother an ungentle kick in the ribs with a suede-booted foot. ‘Just what is going on here?’
CHAPTER SIX
In the bathroom of Dimitri Kastro’s villa Joanne stripped off the bikini with some distaste and swiftly put on her clothes again. She was hot and uncomfortable and she would have enjoyed taking a shower, but as her condition was as much mental as physical and the cause of that condition was out there in that huge lounge waiting for her to emerge no doubt she wo
uld not give in to the impulse. Instead, she dressed, ran a comb through her rather damp hair, and emerged feeling cross and embarrassed.
Covering the wide expanse of hall she reached the lounge doors and stood at the entrance with some reluctance looking for Constantine. But he was nowhere in sight, and only Dimitri Kastro was there, lounging comfortably in one of the huge armchairs, a glass of some amber liquid hanging from one hand. One booted foot rested on the low occasional table and he looked completely relaxed. As usual his clothes were immaculate even if the colours of his shirt were a trifle bizarre. He had shed his jacket and loosened his shirt, and she could see the beginnings of the dark growth of hair on his tanned chest. A strange feeling rippled up her spine and she wished desperately that she had not allowed her father to thrust her into this situation.
‘Where - where is Constantine?’ she said at last as he continued to regard her silently, and with obvious unwillingness he got to his feet.
‘My brother has discovered he has other things to do,’ replied Dimitri, swallowing the remainder of his drink.
‘I see.’ Joanne swallowed hard. ‘And how am I to get back to my father’s house?’
Dimitri shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I myself will take you there,’ he said. ‘But later.’
Joanne hovered uncertainly by the door and he said, rather tersely: ‘Come in, for God’s sake! I shan’t bite!’
Joanne straightened her shoulders with determination. ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to go back right now,’ she said.
Dimitri gave a half-smile. ‘But I do mind,’ he remarked annoyingly. ‘Now, may I offer you a drink before lunch?’
Joanne sighed. ‘Mr. Kastro, you don’t want to lunch with me any more than I want to lunch with you—’
‘Oh, but you’re wrong, Miss Nicolas,’ he replied mockingly. ‘I want to lunch with you very much.’
Joanne compressed her lips. He was impossible, absolutely impossible, and the most aggravating thing of all was that his presence disturbed her more every minute she spent with him. She was almost certain he was deliberately baiting her and there was nothing she could do about it short of walking out of his house and back to her father’s house on foot. But how could she? She didn’t even know the way.
‘I think your behaviour is despicable,’ she said, seeking to anger him into doing as she asked, but Dimitri merely smiled more annoyingly and said:
‘You were not so eager to leave half an hour ago.’
Joanne felt furious. ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
Dimitri ran the tips of his fingers round the rim of his glass. ‘I think you know the answer to that, Miss Nicolas,’ he replied smoothly.
Joanne took a deep breath. ‘You think I was - well, flirting with your brother, is that it?’
Dimitri studied her flushed cheeks intently. ‘And you’re going to tell me you weren’t.’
Joanne’s brows drew together angrily. ‘Of course I wasn’t. As a matter of fact—’
‘Spare me your explanations,’ he replied, in a bored voice. ‘I can see no point in arguing over it. Now, what will you drink? An aperitif? Or just something long and cool?’
Joanne moved her shoulders helplessly, running her hand over the smooth red leather of one of the couches. She might as well accept the inevitable and resign herself to the knowledge that Dimitri Kastro would go his own way no matter what she said.
As she did not reply to his question, Dimitri shrugged and taking a tall glass he filled it with iced lime juice laced with just a trace of gin. He came across to her and handed her the glass, and she had perforce to take it. She hoped he would not remain beside her while she drank it. His nearness made her as jumpy as a kitten.
However, she need not have worried. After handing her the drink Dimitri stretched and excused himself, saying he needed a wash before lunch, and Joanne compressed her lips to prevent herself from making some angry remonstrance. After he had left the room, she seated herself on the edge of the couch and sipped her drink thoughtfully. Where was Constantine now? What other things had he to do? And what had been said between the two brothers before his departure? She sighed. One thing was certain, Dimitri had not been at all pleased to find her with his brother. She wondered why. Unless he imagined she was having a good time because she was free from all restraint. She felt impatient. Just who did he think he was anyway?
When Dimitri returned she saw he had changed into close-fitting white pants and a navy knitted cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. As the shirt was short-sleeved his tanned forearms were bare apart from the thick band of the gold wrist watch he wore. His dark eyes challenged hers and she looked away from them, wondering why he always had this confusing effect upon her. After all, she was used to men, she worked with them, and certainly she had met many who were strictly more handsome. And yet Dimitri Kastro’s attraction did not rely on good looks and related to nothing she had previously experienced. Maybe it was his darkness, or that ruthlessness which was in itself challenging. She didn’t know. She only knew that he disturbed her in a way she had never known before. Inwardly, she chided herself for these thoughts; heavens, she thought, I’m allowing the influence of this place to get a hold on me!
Dimitri crossed the lounge and opened the french doors which led on to the verandah. ‘I’ve asked Rosa to serve lunch on the verandah,’ he remarked. ‘I thought you might enjoy the view.’
Joanne did not reply but continued to study her half-empty glass with concentrated effort. Quite honestly, she could think of nothing to say that would not sound submissive, so she remained silent.
Dimitri turned and regarded her bent head. ‘Oh, come, Miss Nicolas,’ he said mockingly. ‘Surely you cannot intend to maintain a frigid silence for the whole of our time together.’
Joanne sighed and looked up. ‘If my silence is frigid then perhaps my words are frozen,’ she retorted sharply.
Dimitri shrugged, then he said casually: ‘Tell me, what do you think of my house?’
Joanne drank a little of the iced lime juice. It seemed she would never be able to disconcert this man. In resigned tones, she said: ‘It’s very nice.’
Dimitri’s black brows ascended. ‘Such enthusiasm!’ he commented dryly. ‘Take care, Miss Nicolas, or you will give me an inflated ego!’
Joanne refused to allow the smile that tugged at her lips to appear. He was deliberately attempting to arouse some response and she would not be baited in this fashion. Instead, she finished her drink and rose to replace the glass on the tray. But Dimitri intercepted her, standing between her and the table. His dark eyes were unfathomable now and a shiver ran up her spine as she looked up at him.
‘Just what are you hoping to prove, Miss Nicolas?’ he queried, in ominously polite tones.
Joanne took a step backwards. ‘I’m not trying to prove anything, Mr. Kastro. But you can’t possibly induce someone to eat with you and then expect an enthusiastic response! Whatever you may have thought of my relationship with Constantine, I was in no way emotionally involved, and my father himself insisted that I accompanied your brother. I raised no objections, why should I? Constantine is a pleasant companion. If by keeping me here you’re hoping to prove something else, then you will be disappointed!’
Dimitri’s eyes were narrowed now and she noticed how long and thick his lashes were. ‘You have no conception of my reasons for keeping you here,’ he replied bleakly. ‘And I will say one thing with reference to my brother. I know Constantine, slightly better than you do, I hazard to guess, and I am perfectly aware of his weakness for beautiful girls. So too, no doubt, is Marisa, and I personally do not believe that either she or Andrea approved of you accepting Constantine’s invitation.’
Joanne’s cheeks suffused with colour. ‘You enjoy humiliating me, don’t you?’ she cried chokingly. She turned away from him. ‘All right, perhaps you are correct, I don’t know, but I’m in no way responsible for the actions of your brother!’
‘I accept that. And in return
will you accept that I agree your father’s premise that you need a break away from the villa?’
Joanne swung round. ‘Who told you he said that?’
‘Constantine was as quick to explain his actions as you appear to be,’ replied Dimitri dryly. ‘So. Shall we have lunch?’
Joanne hesitated and then nodded slowly. ‘Very well,’ she said, realizing that her reasons for flaring at Dimitri Kastro were mixed ones. Her aversion to spending time in his company was motivated as much by the uneasy awareness he aroused in her as by his attitude towards her relationship with Constantine.
Over the meal, however, Dimitri endeavoured to put her at her ease, and in part he succeeded. He was a stimulating companion and his knowledge of his country and its legends was extensive. Joanne had read Greek mythology at school and invited his explanations of the various sources of the legends. Her self-consciousness banished, she could enjoy his company without reservation.
‘My parents live at Delphi,’ he commented, helping himself to more coffee. ‘It’s some hundred miles from Athens, but many tourists go there to see the temples of Apollo and Athena.’
Joanne cupped her chin on her hands, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. They were shaded here, on the verandah, but beyond the wild garden, brilliant with flowering shrubs, the sun beat down brassily on to the silvery sand of the shoreline.
‘Greece is a country of many contrasts, isn’t it?’ she said, sighing. ‘There is so much to do, to see, to feel! Time becomes unimportant.’